2009-04-28 - A Waste Of Time
Interrogation rooms by their very purpose are not pleasant places to be. Especially one belonging to the Titans, who have the reputation of doing what they can to serve up justice. It's a cold room, even worse than a prison cell. The heater's busted. The air is musty as if from disuse, and slightly acrid. The flooring is minimal. There's a pair of chairs, a table, some glass shielding; that's basically it. One of those chairs is occupied by a young man, probably just out of his teens, whose tallness is disguised by his slump forward. That man is Allelujah Haptism, and he's still in his flight suit sans helmet. His hair falls around his face messily, the ends of it curled around his neck slightly; eyes are nothing more than a pair of glimmering silver and gold gleaming out from under the shadow of his bangs. They look restless and tired, or maybe pained from the position he has found himself in. He's been unconscious for a day or so, and in the meantime he was tied to this chair -- legs are strapped down, upper chest and shoulders are strapped down, arms are wrenched uncomfortably behind the back of the seat in a way that is probably bad for the joints, and wrists bound. He's hungry. There's still some blood on his face left from the previous battle, and it looks like he's seen much better days. This -- is a Gundam Meister. Allelujah is left to stew for almost an hour upon waking, but there is no doubt that his every move is being watched. Even beyond any gut feelings of being watched - supernatural or otherwise - it just stands to reason. One of the reasons the Titans weren't instantly disbanded after the Heinman scandal is because they are very, very good at their jobs. Especially when their job is questioning terrorists. Precisely 57 minutes after the Gundam Meister wakes up to find himself tied to a chair, the door to the room cracks open. Typically, this is where the burly men come in and the rape begins. Today, however, Allelujah Haptism is not so lucky. It is not, in fact, a burly man with rape in his eyes; it's a teenage boy in a Titans uniform, carrying a manila envelope in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. Worst of all, however, is that he appears to be in an annoyingly good mood. "Morning, Ultimate Super Soldier," Leo Stenbuck says cheerily, closing the door behind him. Rather than take a seat, he walks straight past the table, setting the bottle and envelope on it as he does. He continues past, circles around to behind Allelujah's chair, and... starts untying his wrists. "I've got a few questions for you," the Titan explains, as he undoes the knot binding the Meister's hands. "I hope you're up to cooperating." Like some primitive creature, Allelujah reacts to the sudden creaking of the door with a light jolt. He manages to pull himself up to a straighter stance via wriggling his waist slowly, navigating the bonds that hold him, and he stares at the door like a man expecting his execution right here and now. It's a boy. A boy who looks like he's younger than the Meister. Allelujah probably should be relieved, but there's something chilling about a youth who's apparently here -- to 'question' him. He just stares as the boy talks, leaving his now-free arms limp at his sides -- leant forward again in a slump. His eyes look like he's been through much more than just being captured; it looks like part of his very soul was ripped out. Given that his other personality 'died', it's not surprising. "..." Behind Allelujah's back, Leo's cheerful smile gives way to a small frown. He hopes this isn't indicative of the man being unwilling to talk. It's not like there aren't options available, if he won't cooperate... but the boy would really rather not resort to them. They're so... ... bothersome. "Your throat's probably pretty dry," Leo says, tossing the removed bindings to the floor. He forces cheer back into his voice as he does, and calls the small smile back onto his face. The boy circles back around thbe table, pushing the bottle of water across it towards Allelujah as he passes it. "You've been out for awhile," he continues, carefully taking a seat in the chair opposite Allelujah. He pulls the envelope across the table to him, opens it up, and produces the contents; a stack of very large photographs. The boy turns his eyes down to the pictures and thumbs through them, picking a few out and placing them on the table in front of him. "We'll start with something easy," Leo says, without looking up from the stack of photos. "Tell me your name... and the name of your Gundam." Leo's actually right. His throat is pretty dry. He can barely manage to rasp out anything, so Allelujah just nods slowly. He lifts his hands toward lap-level, rubbing vaguely at his reddened, rope-marked wrists and staring balefully at the bottle of water -- glancing from Leo to it. Yes, this is definately the boy who's actively sought him out three times. He suspected that Leo was from the HRL and was there to bring him back -- or something -- but the boy doesn't /look/ like he's from it. The Meister is puzzled, but he doesn't show it. He takes the bottle -- opening it, taking a quick, distrusting swig (or four) from it before setting it back and panting. He wants to ask very badly, but he isn't sure what Leo will do. None of what he's asked is exactly top-secret, so he just cooperates from now. Allelujah searches for his voice -- finding it a few moments later, he straightens up a little (although he looks down at the table). "... Allelujah Haptism. I -- my gundam -- Gundam Kyrios." Allellujah Haptism. Leo lowers the photographs in his hands and Looks at Allelujah. He stares, unblinking, for a good five seconds, carefully masking his disbelief with neutrality. He is, quite pointedly, not smiling anymore. Allelujah... Haptism. And then the smile's back again. "Alright... Allelujah," he says, only a little hesitant at this development. He sets the stack aside, picks two photos out of it, and sets them flat on the table, pushing them across the surface towards Al. One is a large, glossy photograph of Gundam Exia; the other is a similar picture of Gundam Virtue. Despite the quality of the paper and prints, the actual photographs are surprisingly low-res; they appear to be stills from guncamera footage. Judging from the specifics of the photos, the owners of the cameras didn't last long after the pictures were taken. "Names," Leo prompts. "Pilot and mobile suit." Without pausing, he continues, "So tell me, Allelujah... why did you call yourself the Ultimate Super Soldier? Get a big head from all those 'interventions?'" Even through the forced smile and cheer, the venom in the last question is easy to notice. Allelujah Haptism would probably look as baffled as Leo -- if he weren't so profoundly drunk with weariness right now. Eyes half-lidded, he stares down at the photos. So the EFA wants to know just who is in Celestial Being ... the young man shuts his eyes momentarily, as if summoning his thoughts up. It wouldn't harm much, he deduces. They're all fake names anyway -- and he himself doesn't have any identity to protect. "Setsuna F. Seiei, Gundam Exia," he states, monotonously. "... Tieria Erde, Gundam Virtue." He slumps, showing no sign of irritation or anger at Leo's taunts -- just some sadness. "... He's dead," is all he says to the 'ultimate supersoldier' subject. He's... dead? Leo's brow furrows, and the smile disappears yet again. He's at least ninety percent certain Allelujah is not, in fact, dead. Frowning thoughtfully, the boy retrieves the photos of Virtue and Exia. They go back into the stack, and a moment later three more come out. These, however, are of the Thrones; Eins, Zwei, and Drei. These photos, too, are placed flat on the table and pushed towards Allelujah. "Names," he repeats. "Pilot and mobile suit." This time, the smile does not reture. "Who's 'he?'" Leo asks, after a small pause. "And how did he die?" Allelujah watches Leo carefully. He stares at the pictures for some time -- the soldier recognizes those suits, but he doesn't really know which is which. "... I don't know much about those," he admits, glancing at Leo beneath his hair like some beseeching dog. "They weren't around for long." He looks away. "You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you." Don't know much, huh. For the second time, Leo stares at Allelujah for several long seconds. This time, it's not in disbelief, per se; he's just weighing his options. It probably wouldn't hurt too much to press the issue... but there's always the chance the man would clam up, and then things would get a lot more complicated. "That's alright," the boy says, eventually. "You'll have plenty of time to wrack your memory." The pictures of the Thrones are gathered up, and go back in the stack. This time, the boy doesn't immediately produce more photos. "Well," Leo says, as he picks through the stack of photos again, "You'll never know if I believe you or not unless you tell me, so." He looks up from his stack of photographs, just for a moment. An edge in his tone and his eyes suggests that the request for information was not, in fact, a request. Allelujah can feel Leo's eyes burning on him; the man seems rather mild, meek, even, and averts his gaze towards a particularly interesting crack in the flooring. It could just be a side-effect of being so languid -- anyone in this situation would be. He shifts position, wondering what else is going to happen, and, in one corner of his mind, if they're even going to feed him. He feels sick and a little sweaty in that flightsuit, but none of it really knows. Of course, he senses that imperitive edge behind the boy's words. "... There are ..." He pauses. "There were two people in my body. Two minds." It's awkward to explain; this is the sort of thing he barely even told Sumeragi about, so why is he telling Leo? "But without him ... I'm a failed pilot." Leo doesn't look up as Allelujah speaks; he just stares at the stack of photos, rolling around the man's words in his mind. Two minds...? The implications of such a thing are certainly interesting. How could it even happen? He spends seven or eight seconds in silence, conjuring more and more wildly spectacular scenarios that could make such a thing happens, before he remembers that they already have an explanation for things like that... and, indeed, even a word. "I see," Leo says, finally. "... I believe you." He produces another photograph and slides it across the table towards Allelujah; this one is of the Ptolemaios. "Names," he prompts, for the third time. "Crew and ship." It's subtle, but his tone has suddenly shifted; he's speaking more gently, like one might address a retarded kid. Or, you know, a complete fucking psychopath liable to explode at any moment. Allelujah doesn't feel as relieved as he should be -- it's just another confession. When Leo reveals the picture of the Ptolemaios and asks for names, that's when the man starts to freeze up -- he looks as if his heart had skipped a beat, eyes subtly widening a little more. He can't sell out the crew, they're innocent and bloodless compared to him -- and some of them actually go by their real names and could be tracked down. Gold and silver eyes divert their gaze away again, face stiff. "..." It had to happen eventually. Leo leans back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest. He was willing to buy ignorance in the case of the Thrones. After all, he was taught that that's how terror cells often operate; they know as little as possible about each other, just in case of a situation like this. But Allelujah isn't claiming ignorance this time, and he wouldn't believe him even if he did. He's just not talking. "Listen to me very carefully, Allelujah," Leo says. He leans forwards again, resting his elbows on the table, locking his fingers together, and holding them horizontally in front of his nose and mouth. Professionals call it the Gendo. "There's a long, long list of things that we're not allowed to do to military prisoners," the boy explains. "As a member of a terrorist organization, none of those rules apply to you. To put it simply, we can do whatever we want to you and no one will even care." "That said," he continues, "I don't want to do any of those things. So please..." The boy reaches out and pushes the photo a few more inches towards Allelujah. "... Names. Crew and ship." Allelujah is looking away -- he probably would have had to supress laughter at the boy in that position if he weren't ... and, for that matter, if the situation were not so serious. But he can't. Sumeragi, Feldt, Ian, Lasse, Lichty, the rest of the crew ... they don't deserve to be caught up in this. They don't have blood on their hands. He does, the other Meisters do, and it's their job. He is a supersoldier, a killer, nothing more. Probably a terrorist too -- although he winces inwardly at that word. He hangs his head, hands held on his lap in tight fists. "..." Hrng. "Okay," Leo sighs, aborting his Gendo pose to reach up and rub impatiently at his temples. "Look. Even if you don't talk, Setsuna or Tieria will. The people talking to them are not anywhere near as nice as I am." Ha ha! Fibbing. It may be a lie, but Leo delivers it without batting an eye; he's not a terribly good liar when it comes to his personal life, but right now is different. He's at work... and unlike a disturbingly large portion of the Earth Federation Army, Leo takes his job very seriously. "Would it make it easier for you if we came back to this question later?" he asks. "In fact, let's do that. We'll talk about something else. Alright?" Please, God, the boy thinks, please don't clam up. Please please please. Allelujah lifts his head, wide-eyed. Leo got his attention. Tieria and Setsuna ... the Federation got them too? And with the Ptolemaios down, and with Veda in the control of another power -- Celestial Being has nothing left. It's gone. There's nothing to really fight or live for anymore. He drops his gaze again, as if overcome. He doesn't say anything, but sits there in sheer, almost meditative silence. The lie may have grabbed Allelujah's attention... but it's done little to loosen his tongue. Leo falls silent again, staring evenly at the Gundam Meister. He really, really doesn't want to get physical... but he's rapidly running out of options. He doesn't have the time or the patience to spend all day in here trying to get Al to talk using things like 'words' and 'compassion.' So he keeps pulling from his rapidly dwindling playbook, and tries some random name dropping. "Are you worried about Veda?" he asks. As apt as the question may seem, it's in truth a shot in the dark based off of a snippet of radio conversation once intercepted by Sarah Zabiarov. That becomes increasingly more obvious when Leo keeps talking. "If you tell me who she is," the boy suggests, leaning back in his chair again, "I can find out if she's alright. Same with the rest of the crew. How about it?" Allelujah doesn't seem as concerned about that, given a lack of reaction -- but he does recognize the name. He lifts his head, then, mismatched eyes gazing at Leo as if their hold was tenuous. "... You haven't been here a long time, have you?" "What the hell is that supposed to-" Leo snaps. His patience is quickly wearing thin, and while he may be a highly trained Titan officer and combat pilot, he is still, at the end of the day, just a kid. To his credit, he manages to catch himself. Blood rushes to his cheeks from a mixture of anger and embarassment, and he takes a slow, deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. "Tell me who Veda is," he demands, evenly. The calm in his voice is very clearly forced. Allelujah doesn't smile or lift his voice; it's almost as if he is reciting it from somewhere. He shifts uncomfortably -- sitting bound like this is hell for the bloodflow in his legs. He watches Leo with caution. "... A soldier who was being serious would have been more harsh." He brings his head to the side, looking unenthusiastic. "... Veda isn't a person." Leo grinds his teeth. The only thing worse than the fact that he's being antagonized by his own prisoner is the knowledge that the handful of people observing the interrogation are probably laughing at him. "If you want me to stop being nice, I'll call Yaz-" he begins. Again, he catches himself. Stay cool, he berates himself. Be more like Master Paptimus. The boy takes another deep breath, this one from between grit teeth. He closes his eyes and counts to five. "Alright," he finally says, opening his eyes again. "Veda isn't a person. So tell me /what/ she-- it-- is." "It doesn't matter anymore," Allelujah replies with curt resignation, still looking the other way with his neck flexed. "Celestial Being is gone." Leo sighs. At least it wasn't... /quite/ a refusal to cooperate. "Humor me," he 'requests.' "We're not on a time limit, here. You're not going to gain anything by stalling. The faster you tell me what you want, the faster you get out of that chair and away from me. So just cooperate and make both our lives easier?" "What," he repeats, this time more forcefully, "Is Veda?" Allelujah purses his lips, as if considering. He's silent for some time, leaning forward, looking down at his arms. He wonders if there's more officers waiting behind the door; it would probably explain why they unbound his arms. It must be -- a test. In time, though, his mouth opens. "An operating system," He says, pausing between each phrase as though they were the only things he could cling onto. "For our Gundams -- and the ship -- before it got cut off." "Cut off how?" Leo urges. This, now; this is the good stuff. Names aren't nearly as useful as facts like these... even vague facts. "A virus or something? -- Was this when your Gundams powered down in the middle of combat?" The excitement mounting in his tone isn't hard to hear; he's positively delighted to actually be getting some meat from his prisoner. Probably a virus, the boy muses. And that carries with it a whole nother set of mysteries. Someone in the DC? If they already knew about this Veda, they've got way better spies than us... Allelujah notices the change. This boy -- this inexperienced boy -- is probably happy just to get anything from him. "... I don't know," he shrugs. "I wasn't deployed at the time." He's pretty happy... but it's almost immediately replaced by frustration. "You don't... know," Leo repeats, obviously crestfallen. "So... Veda is your operating system... and something went wrong, and you don't know what. ... okay." That's... well, it's better than nothing... right? "Let's talk about something else," Leo says, after another sigh. He turns his eyes to the ceiling, frowning thoughtfully. What else, what else... ... ah. "Alright," Leo says, lowering his gaze back to Allelujah. There is a certain gleam in his eye that suggests his next question has more behind it than just business. "Tell me about... 'Trans-Am.'" ... "I don't know," Allelujah admits again. "... It just suddenly appeared." "Oh, my God," Leo blurts, rocking back in his chair and reaching up his hands to cover his face. After a few beats he lowers his hands and rocks forwards again, leaning heavily onto the table. "Do you... do you know /anything?!/" he demands angrily. "What the fuck is your deal?! Did they just take the first Goddamn schizo nutjob they could find and give him a Gundam?! Jesus Christ!" The boy rises suddenly out of his chair and turns, pacing away from the table. For a moment, it almost looks like he's leaving... but when he reaches the door he turns sharply and storms back the way he came. "Well?!" the boy demands, slamming his hands on the table angrily. "Do you know anything or not?!" So that's... professional. Allelujah's eyes widen fearfully as Leo has apparently had enough of his lack of knowledge; he crings, pulling away with his shoulders tensed up like some kind of pathetic little dog. At least he doesn't start crying or anything. He keeps himself rigid for the rest of the outburst, senses heightened by surprise and gnawing hunger. He flinches again at the harsh noise of fists on table. "... -- You could -- you could say it like that." He turns his head to the side. To say that Leo's patience has dissolved would be an understatement. Leo's patience has just exploded like an antiproton reactor thrown into another, larger antiproton reactor going hundreds of miles an hour. A few muscles on the boy's face twitch, and he stares straight at the bound Allelujah, unmoving. He doesn't know anything. He was able to give Leo some names, and he could at least vaguely identify what 'Veda' was, but he's flat out not very useful. Truth be told, it's not that terrible a catastrophe; as Allelujah said, Celestial Being is history... and Gundam Kyrios's GN Drive was a far grander trophy than its Gundam meister. But this is just... pathetic. It's the first interrogation Leo has ever actually carried out, and it's going almost nowhere. He's frustrated and angry... and, even more than that, he's kind of ashamed. But there is, he recalls, at least one thing Allelujah /does/ know, and by God, he's going to get it out of him. Leo turns his attention to the stack of photographs still lying on the table and thumbs through it furiously. As he is rapidly approaching 'tantrum' levels, when photos that aren't the one he wants get in his way, he just sweeps them onto the floor. When he finally finds what he's looking for, he slams it down onto the table with a loud *BANG* and slides it towards Allelujah. It's the photo of the Ptolemaios again. "NAMES!" Leo shouts, voice cracking slightly. "SHIP AND CREW!" The air is so tense, it's stifling. Allelujah Haptism returns to his default position which is apparently 'slouching and looking sorry for himself', arms held on his lap with his hands tightly clenched into fists against the material of his flightsuit. His hair sticks to his forehead; there's a thin layer of sweat forming, and he stares almost unblinkingly at Leo like a cornered, anticipating wolf. Then it just comes like a hurricane -- this question! This question again! There's only one thing Allelujah can do. "..." He sits there, silent, staring at the photo. Leo stands over the table, leaning heavily onto it with both hands. Somewhere during his miniature fit, his chair ended up on the ground... but he doesn't much seem to mind. The boy lets the silence hang for almost four seconds, staring at Allelujah with rage in his eyes; it's quite the feat, considering how violently his patience has vanished. "They're all dead," he finally says, to break the silence. It comes out more harshly than he intended it to, but he doesn't stop and correct his tone. "Everyone on that ship is dead. I didn't do it, and I didn't want them to die, but that's the facts." He pauses a moment to let that sink it. A moment later, he continues. "Their families will probably never know... unless you /tell me who they were./ Nothing you do can save them now. We're not going to hunt down their relatives or anything. I know what you must think of the Titans, but we're not going to punish someone for a decision someone else made." "There is nothing you can do that can make their situation any worse," Leo summarizes, angrily. "So start talking." "..." Allelujah is doing whatever he can to not make eye contact with Leo, and it seems to be working out for the better. He's silent as Leo Stenbuck tries to pry answers out of him in another manipulative way -- but he sees right through it. Why? Because after he saw the Ptolemaios explode, he heard radio chatter about the crew being picked up. He heard Sumeragi's voice, although he wasn't paying much attention. "That's a lie," he says, quietly, but with conviction. Leo actually looks surprised, even through the anger; as far as he knew, he /wasn't/ lying. Of course, he wasn't paying that much attention to the ship after the fighting started... Allelujah was taking up most of his attention. It only lasts for a moment, though; for all he knows, Allelujah is lying or mistaken. 'Mistaken,' of course, is a very broad term; Leo can't dismiss the possibility that the man just hallucinated what he thinks to be fact. It occurs to the boy half a second later that this holds true of /all/ the information he's given him. The idea that anything he gets out of Allelujah might just be the ramblings of a psychopath... well, it just makes him angrier. "Oh yeah? How are you so sure?" Leo sneers. "You blacked out before the battle ended. How do you know they made it to safety?" "... I heard her on communications," Allelujah speaks, in a low and obstinate tone. He's playing it safe, albeit exposing more mystery. Maybe he's doing it on purpose. "If she is fine, then they all are." Well, there's at least one woman. "Who is 'she?'" Leo demands. By now, his face is flushed red, and tiny points of pain are appearing in his temples. Being super pissed for long periods of time tends to leave Leo feeling physically unwell. He tends to get super pissed a lot. It kind of sucks. "I am /this/ close," the boy warns, holding two fingers a centimeter apart, "To not being Mr. Nice Guy anymore!" To emphasize his point, he lifts his right hand off the table and settles it on the holster on his hip... inside of which is, as usual, a white-handled, gold-plated revolver. "Someone will get it out of you eventually!" Leo shouts. "Do you think they'd want you to go through what you'll have to to protect them?! JUST /TALK/ ALREADY!!" Allelujah is still passive. He isn't looking at Leo; he doesn't see the gun, and even if he did he wouldn't be so scared of it. To be honest, the supersoldier has completely detached himself from the situation through his own mental exhaustion and apathy -- Celestial Being is dead. There's no real point to talking. "..." It doesn't stay so easy to miss the gun for long. Leo suddenly grabs the edge of the table and flips it up onto its side. It tumbles into the magic mirror on the wall; the impact just barely cracks the mirror, and the startled shouts of the people observing from behind it carry through the soundproofing. That almost certainly should have been bolted down. The boy steps forwards into the now empty floorspace, wrenching his firearm out of its holster and jamming the barrel into Allelujah's shoulder. There's a loud *click* as he cocks the hammer with his thumb. This is so unfair, the boy rages in his mind. Why do I have to get the psycho who doesn't know anything? He barely even pays attention! He's making me look like an idiot!! "This is your last chance," Leo warns. There's an odd choked quality to his voice. "Tell me their names!" ~crack~ Leo's antics have now captured Allelujah's attention, more from instinct than anything else. The supersoldier lifts himself, startled, from his ennui -- and before he can really decipher what's happening, he now has a gun pressed right against his shoulder. It's cold. He can feel his heart bolting in his ears, his throat, and it's stifling. He also just remembered that his arms are free, so in case ... ... No, that would just attract attention from the observers. If he does something to this kid, they'll probably give him someone more experienced. But -- the Hallelujah that still lives inside of him faintly says: Oh well, what the hell. He has nothing left but his life? Why shouldn't he? "..." One sinewy arm strikes up, snake-like and powerful, to try and wrest the weapon out of Leo's grip even as he shoves the rest of his body forward to trip him up a little. Leo's first thought is 'I shouldn't have untied his hands.' ~BANG~ Leo's second thought is 'shit.' Allelujah's hand closes around Leo's wrist, and with a yelp of panicked surprise the boy jerks his arm away and upwards. He doesn't manage to get out of the Meister's grip, and somewhere in the frantic motion his finger tightens around the trigger. Luckily for Allelujah, the barrel isn't still jammed into his shoulder when the gun goes off. In a surprisingly luck-neutral twist, the bullet that erupts from the fireamr is nonlethal. It simply doesn't matter that much when you fire at point blank range. It does, however, mean that the round erupts into a sheet of gel as it leaves the weapon; most of it continues on to slam into the wall of the interrogation room. The very edges of the gel catch Al's shoulder and neck; it's just a glancing blow, but it still feels a lot like being punched by a bodybuilder who knows Double Karate. It'll leave a mark, for sure. Meanwhile, the sudden action has caught Leo totally off guard; after Allelujah being so passive for so long, he wasn't expecting something like this at all. The Meister's attempt to trip him up works fabulously, throwing him totally off balance. The boy slips and tumbles to the floor, hand still caught in Allelujah's. So far, so good. At least until the commotion just outside the door starts. Judging from the noise, Allelujah has about two seconds before the interrogation room fills with burly men with guns. Allelujah doesn't think -- he just acts. His first instinct when the gun goes off is to twist to the side to avoid a direct hit -- with his lower body still bound to the chair, this is made incredibly awkward and he just ends up tumbling to the ground with a heavy crack and thump of bodies on a hard floor. He uses the strength he has to wrench Leo's gun out of his hand, fingers trembling slightly from all of the adrenaline surging through his systems now. The Meister barely notices the normally horrible feeling of that gel round thanks to this, and he slams himself against the ground, wriggling and awkwardly reaching his free arm back to try and untie himself -- -- At least, until the men with guns come. His reflexes kick in, and he just shoots a couple of the rounds at them to deter them. Of course, this is probably a big mistake! Leo lets out a cry of dismay when Al wrenches the weapon out of his hand. Oh, sure, he's a little concerned about the fact that now he's in a room with a psychopath who has a gun... but mostly he's concerned about the gun's welfare. It was, after all, a gift. The end of his wail is cut off when the door bursts open and men begin to flood into the room carrying shotguns. The first man in eats two bullets to the chest; these, too, are nonlethal, and two large patches of blue gel appear on his chest in quick succession. He gasps as the blows expel the air from his lungs and tumbles backwards, briefly obstructing the doorway. That lasts for about half a second. There's yet another loud *BANG* as one of the men in the doorway takes a shot; a beanbag, a much more old-school less than lethal alternative, slams into Allelujah's chest hard enough to crack his ribs. A second later, one of the handful of men crowding past the fallen Titan fires a taser, tiny darts launching themselves into Al's abdomen and fillng him with sweet, sweet electricity. After a moment, someone else fires a second taser into the Meister. You know, just to be sure. Allelujah takes a chance -- he swings to his back, attempting to deftly use the chair as a shield for oncoming shots. The flaw in this plan is that he's just too exhausted and worn out to do it completely, so he ends up tumbling to the side, firing off another shot that goes whizzing toward one wall with a horrendous splat before he's overcome by the rest of the men. His chest fills with an odd sensation -- the breath is all knocked out of him, and he finds himself wheezing helplessly -- disoriented. The next thing he knows, his body is filled with an agonizing, split-second burning sensation, like his nerves are high-tension wires. All at once, his muscles lock up; the rebellious Meister blacks out, falling onto his stomach with his face against the floor. When the buzzing from the second taser shot Allelujah gets subsides, the interrogation room falls into silence. Quietly, one of the men kneels down to check on the one who was shot; he's stunned, and will have a hell of a bruise, but for the most part he's fine. Leo rises into a sitting position and rolls onto all fours, crawling across the floor to the fallen Allelujah. He rips the revolver out of the Meister's hand and carefully checks it for damage. Other than psycho cooties, it appears to be fine, too. Thank God for that. The boy shoves the gun back into its holster and rises the rest of the way to his feet. After a moment of contemplation, he rears back and kicks Allelujah in the gut as hard as he can. Childish need for vengeance fulfilled, he turns sharply away from the fallen Meister to face the Titans looking on in apprehension. "None of you mention this to anyone," he says, voice dangerously quiet. "Destroy the recordings. And get this psycho a padded cell somewhere I never have to see him again." Fuming, the boy storms off, shoving his way through the men who are, amazingly, his subordinates, and stomping off to find somewhere to cool off. "Christ," one of them says, when Leo's out of earshot. "That was almost as good as that time that little faggot clocked Messa for saying he had a girly name." The Titans all laugh like it's the end of the episode. Even the one on the ground. Category:Logs